Three Hundred and Sixty Three Days
by Sheamaru
Summary: Will clinging to a loved one's grave with memories every truly bring them back? Shino says goodbye to the one person in his life who brought him alive and insists he isn't saying farewell to himself as well. [Shino x Shikamaru]


**Disclaimer:** I don't own Shikamaru, Shino, Kiba, Hinata, or really anyone else mentioned in this fanfiction. xD They belong to Kishimoto I believe.  
**Pairing:** Shino x Shikamaru (implied)  
**Warnings:** Angst.

**Author Notes:** Attempted to be sad but it's mostly rambling from listening to the piano version of 'Broken Wings' which I love. Actually Shikamaru died in a chapter of another story that I never finished and probably never will finish.

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It'd been, what, a year now since Shikamaru had died? What a joke, like he didn't know. Three hundred sixty three days exactly. He'd probably know the minutes and hours if he wore a watch when Shikamaru had died. Not that he would have been looking at it but when he did happen to glance at it after carrying the other back to the small snow-set village he could easily calculate how long it took him and be pretty accurate. He couldn't completely say things hadn't gotten easier, they had. It just took looking directly back on the funeral day for him to realize it, or the day before when the Nara stopped breathing in his arms. It was only looking like at the _hard_ times that made going through these days any easier. Anyone who said it was a wonder he hadn't killed himself was probably right. He never denied that he was suicidal, he just didn't flaunt it, it seemed like such a stupid thing to do. Who honestly needed to know?

The only way to tell that someone who really knew Shikamaru was at the grave site, was that anyone that was there for Shikamaru would lean against the memorial. You go to pay respects to as many people as you wanted but he really only visited for Shikamaru anyway. So when he went to think about the brunette, he sat at the base of the stone and leaned against it, looking up at the clouds. It was hard to look at them without feeling a little guilty about the conversation before the other passed. He was so angry over his mistakes, so irrationally claiming the world to be unfair, that he wasn't even paying attention to what he said. He hadn't realized how the other may have reacted to having the little bit of carefree sanity he had in the sky taken away. Of course he apologized, but he was still guilty.

Days had passed by all too gray since then, his smiles became less and less while his frustration in smaller things increased. Even if he was quiet about them, they were there. He had become any rank that he could that allowed him to do most of his work alone and without discussion. It lead him to the dangers of the ANBU Black Ops. But really, it wasn't like he had a hell of a lot to lose if he died anyway. Of course few ninja worked completely on their own, he had a squad, it was just that it required much less speaking when you were an ANBU, missions required more stealth. Well _that_ didn't include talking.

He tilted his head back against the memorial slightly, blinking his shade covered eyes up at the sunlight slowly. A cloud passed in front of the sun to block it from blinding him for a moment, he was painfully aware of it. The wind rustled the frayed edges of his scarf a little though it was hardly cold enough to really be in need of such a thing. Habit, as Shikamaru would have said, it was habit for him to cover so much of himself. Reaching over his shoulder he brushed his fingertips along the tell-tale spot where the Nara's name was as the memory played back over his head of visiting Shikamaru at the academy. He never really liked kids that much, but Shikamaru seemed rather keen with them. One time when he had to run off, he'd asked Shino to stay with them for a moment. For whatever reason a little girl felt obligated to fill him in on how her mother thought he may be a pedophile.

It would have been worse for the little girl, who had also mentioned that she thought bugs were disgusting not ten minutes prior, had Shikamaru not chosen that minute to come back into the room. After offering to walk him to the door, he found the others smile and explanation of how kids were just kids enough to make him relax. It was a breath of fresh air, really, and he became aware of how stupid it was for a child's opinion to even compare to his. The other kissed him on the cheek and wished him luck on his mission before retreating back to the room again. Yes. A breath of fresh air; he hadn't surfaced to breathe in three hundred and sixty three days now.

Missions came and passed, Team Eight succeeded and failed and broke up for their own lives. Kiba continued his relationship with Kankuro, though problems arose for them as well. Most of the time it left one of them cursing the other damnation for a day…then Kiba usually mentioned sex the next. Hinata began quiet work around the hospital with Sakura and Ino, both of whom still went on missions as well. Her heart injuries sustained in the Chuunin Exams so many years ago acted up at times, so her missions were few and far from challenging. They all were still close, took missions together at times. Both of them worried for their friend, they mentioned it sparingly though because he all too easily could play the silent game. So much could change, and so much had.

Letting his hand fall back to his lap again, he bent one of his legs up and shifted to find a slightly more comfortable spot against the stone. His visits had varied in amounts, being impossible for him at first but gradually becoming easier. He tried, really, and though he could hardly face this place every day it was at least a few times a week. It was a better place for him to think no matter who came by. Kakashi often paid visits for his own friends but they never spoke, not much more than a slight greeting in acknowledgment. There were no war stories or apologies for their losses, they both understood what they had was gone, and simply by standing there and talking about it would never change it back. It was lame and all too corny to think about really, but that was the way that things had worked.

Pain was a rather stupid thing to sit there and wallow in, so he did it as little as he could possibly manage. He remembered the numb feelings previously, and ended up pulling out old suicide notes. Those only hurt worse. He remembered finding them once when Shikamaru had been alive, with his current content in life he felt almost silly for writing such things. All he had to do was be patient, and that had guided him so finally to Shikamaru. His own little sense of security in a world where people didn't understand him as much as he may have liked. It was hard now, to look back on them and understand completely what it was like to be that way. Hours passed, but nothing changed now that he may have welcomed it.

Eventually Hinata did show up though Kiba was in tow with her today. They had both grown from what he remembered, it seemed different every time he saw them for some reason. Probably because he sat there for hours thinking of them on that day. His mind stuck in an endless loop of how everyone who had been with him that day looked. How they appeared at the funeral, the way Hinata cried and Kiba comforted her in a way that he could not dream of. What was she crying for? Had it been Shikamaru or him? He had never asked…and knew he never would.

As they left the memorial behind, Hinata softly spoke up, "You won't leave us, will you Shino-kun?"

Kiba looked at him but Shino exchanged no glance, his brown eyes were fixed quite intently upward. He realized he didn't look there nearly enough in previous years, and that his reason for such a thing was rather stupid. Clouds weren't such bad things but it hadn't been until their simplicity was explained that he really understood that. He knew what Hinata meant despite the sea of meanings it was swimming in. Would he kill himself? He hadn't for the past three hundred and sixty three days but would he now? Tomorrow? Did he think about it when he turned his back to the memorial that bore the name of the best thing he'd ever been lucky enough to have? In truth, some days he wondered if there was anything to kill. His shell? Like a new bug leaving its old skin behind because trying to move in it had become painful?

"No, Hinata-san." He replied after a moment, Kiba looking away uneasily, as though the answer only settled him for a minute or he could smell something without being able to place it as a genuine lie. It only took a moment for him to call though, Kiba was usually fast.

"You're already gone, aren't you?"


End file.
